


Mechanical Aids

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: In which Cid decides to give Lucia a gift...
Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Lucia goe Junius
Comments: 22
Kudos: 22





	1. For Your Consideration

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the wonderful folks of Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club!

Lucia regarded the letter in her hand with a frown. It made very little sense, and yet the words were plain enough. “I have some new designs that may be of interest to you. Please meet me to discuss.” A time and place was given – tonight, at the Forgotten Knight.

It seemed like a rather strange meeting place to her. Normally, Cid Garlond asked her to come to the noisy workshop at the Manufactory. What sort of armor or weapon could he have designed that could be demonstrated in the tavern?

She tucked the letter away, and got on with the day's work.

Dusk was falling as she handed everything over to the night shift. Having this new Watch in place was making it easier on everyone to keep the peace in the city, and for a moment she felt a surge of gratitude to the Warrior of Light. It wasn't often that she could think of Berylla without wincing.

She knew, in her head, that Berylla had never set out to seduce Ser Aymeric. She knew that she had never had a real chance with the Lord Commander. But her heart still hurt, and she often fought the urge to think unkind things about the red-haired Warrior.

The Forgotten Knight was a short walk away, and she strode confidently inside and down the stairs to the common room.

Gibrillont greeted her. “Lady Lucia, it's been a while. Your friend's already here.”

She quirked her eyebrow, and then caught sight of Garlond. He was all but fidgeting as he waited for her near the door that led to the inn's sleeping chambers. She walked over to him.

“What on earth is this about, Garlond?”

“New designs,” he answered. “I felt a more, ah, private demonstration was needed.”

She tilted her head at him. Perhaps he'd concocted some sort of new communications device?

“Lead on,” she nodded to him.

He took her to one of the plain rooms. Three thin cases lay on the table, each bearing the Ironworks symbol.

She stepped over to the table, laying her gauntlets aside, and began to reach for the left-most case. Garlond put his hand over hers.

She looked at him, questioning.

“The center one,” he told her, swallowing. “You should look at that one...first.”

She shrugged one shoulder, and reached for the center case, flipping the latches and lifting the lid in one smooth motion.

The item nestled into the silver-gray velveteen was not anything like what she'd been expecting. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she slowly turned to look directly at Cid.

“What,” she said slowly, her voice trembling a little, “is the meaning of this?”

He had the nerve to raise his eyebrows at her. “Do you not recognize the type? I mean, it's obviously different than, ah, standard models, but...”

“Cid nan Garlond.” Lucia ground the next words out. “That is a _dildo_.”

“Well, yes. It's for you.”

“ _What!_ ”

“Well, who else can I ask to test this sort of thing? Not Berylla, even if she were around.”

Lucia stepped back a pace. “Surely you jest.”

“Look, I'm not making my employees try these things out, they'd riot at me. None of them are Garlean, they won't ever have seen this kind of device. Nero's the wrong gender – and furthermore I don't particularly _want_ to collaborate with him...”

“Test them on yourself,” Lucia snapped.

“Can't.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not just because I am also not the right gender for them...”

His embarrassed blush made her pause. “Eh?”

“This particular design...requires a partner.”

“You're a madman, Garlond. You bring me here and expect me to – to – _review sex toys?_ ”

“Do you want some compensation...?”

“What in the seventh hell made you think I would ever be willing to...?” Lucia shook her head.

Garlond blushed again. “Well, I figured you'd at least be frustrated enough to try them, I guess.”

“Frustrated.”

He looked away. “Everyone knows you live for your work,” he said quietly. “Never any hint of a lover. I thought perhaps you could use some sort of...relief.” His eyes slid sideways. “Or would you prefer living flesh to technology?”

Her jaw dropped open at the simple, but somehow brazen, proposition. She put one hand over her mouth. Her eyes crinkled and she began to shake.

Cid turned to her, concerned, and then stepped back as Lucia began to laugh.

She laughed so hard that she ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her sides, wheezing with laugh-tears running down her face. Garlond watched her, arms crossed, an uncertain expression on his face.

Finally she began to wind down enough to do more than wheeze, and he asked, “What's so funny?”

“Just,” she wiped at her eyes again. “Have you any notion how many poorly-written novels use a setup like this?”

“Clearly you have more experience with poorly-written novels,” Cid answered, but he started to grin.

“A guilty pleasure of mine,” Lucia admitted. “Ah, I haven't laughed like that since my school days.”

“I'm glad to have provided you _some_ entertainment, at least.” He came closer, stopping arm's length from the bed. “More seriously, Lucia...don't you ever relax? It can't be healthy, being alone so much.”

She looked up at him, and shrugged. “I manage.”

“But you're not _happy_.”

She quirked her mouth, and chuckled as she spoke. “And you think your little inventions can do that for me?”

“Can't hurt,” he half smiled for a moment, then grew serious. “I admit there was another reason why I asked you...”

“Oh?”

“Well I.” He stopped, and swallowed as her eyes fixed on his. “I find you quite...attractive.”

Lucia tilted her head at him, and slowly rose. Keeping her eyes on his she raised one hand and touched his chest. Under her fingers, his heart beat fast.

“You never said anything,” she murmured.

“...I was nervous.”

“Do I frighten you, Garlond?”

His laugh was nearly silent. “Frighten isn't the word I'd use.”

Her fingers gathered the fabric of his shirt and tightened a little. “Tell me what words you would use, then.”

Cid's eyes were locked on hers. “I'm often in awe of you, it's true,” he murmured. “I respect your strength. I worry about you once in a while. But most of the time I find myself thinking about you and wondering if you're really okay.” He swallowed. “Wondering if you're lonely like I'm lonely. Wondering if you could ever want me.”

“Wondering.”

“Yes.”

She hauled on his shirt, and his hands came up to rest on her shoulders as she kissed him. It was a hard kiss, a fierce kiss, as if she were testing his defenses.

But he did not defend himself. He responded to her with eager acceptance, his lips softening, his mouth opening for her tongue. She felt him trembling under her hand and tasted his need.

She let him go.

Cid stood still, taking his hands off of her the instant she stopped kissing him. His eyes searched hers as he caught his breath.

She regarded him, her gaze sharp and bright as an eagle's. Her voice was husky when she spoke at last. “Help me get out of this armor.”


	2. Armor

Cid's hands shook as he started to unbuckle the plate armor.

He had hoped – but he hadn't been sure. Lucia was so closed off, so private a person...

He had been struck by her the moment he laid eyes on her – she was gorgeous, after all. But something more – her steadiness, the way she never seemed flustered, never faltered. That had been what kept him watching her, wondering about her.

The shoulder armor came off, and he set it to the side. Lucia indicated the next buckle, without speaking, her green eyes watching his every move. He unstrapped the vambraces, and stacked them beside the shoulder pieces. Then she manipulated something beneath the bottom edge of her breastplate, and the black fabric that formed the skirt of her outfit fell away. Cid knelt at her feet and began on the greaves.

He'd tried to get her alone before this. The casual invitation to have a meal together – that had backfired on him more than once, as others kept inviting themselves along. He'd given up after the fourth time someone or other had just happened by as they were leaving. Her day was so busy that half his invitations had been declined anyway...just bad timing.

He had hoped for a chance to at least ask her to dinner or _something_ , when he'd been installing the new heating system for the Temple Knights' barracks. But she hadn't been alone then, not even when he'd finally gotten to the infirmary section and no one _should_ have been around...but something came up. Something always seemed to come up for her, someone needing her attention, her commands, her time.

And she simply accepted it all, and got the job done. As efficient and precise as any engineer he'd ever worked with, in her way – competent and strong and _compassionate_. That's what he had learned about her over the past months since they'd come to Ishgard. Lucia was kind whenever she had the choice. Even when that kindness cost her what little free time she had.

The armor over her legs was articulated and complex, but very well made and therefore easily removed. Once he had it off, those went to lean up on the wall beside the stacked bits that he'd removed first. When he turned around, she had her back to him. Only the central chest plates remained.

He reached for the clasps that locked them in place and provided a support point for the shoulder plates that layered over the breastplate, and she reached up and pulled off her headband, tossing it accurately to land beside her gloves on the table. It chimed against the gauntlets.

When he'd learned that she was in fact a Garlean like himself, his interest had only grown, and his hopes. Maybe she missed something about Garlemald, as he did from time to time. Not _all_ of his memories of his childhood home were bad ones.

But he just hadn't been able to break the ice with her.

When he had heard a pair of off-duty knights speculating about her, his interest had taken a turn. She took no lovers, she had no social life, she worked and she slept and that was all. And yet when some young fellow had attempted the “direct approach,” she had put him to the ground with one punch.

So that meant not taking the so-called direct approach, to Cid's mind. He was certainly not that kind of fighter.

The straps loosened and the breastplate came apart along the sides. Lucia set her hands on the front piece so that Cid could take away the back, and once he'd set that aside she turned to face him, and he took the final piece of armor off of her.

She sat down on the bed as he set down that last piece, and began to unlace her boots.

At last, in desperation, he'd racked his brain for things he might be able to create that would catch her interest. He'd sweated over the letter that worded everything so vaguely, so she'd assume it was business. It had all been a huge gamble.

Well, now his gamble had worked.

He watched her take off her boots, noticing that beneath the very Ishgardian armor, she wore the plain black carbon-weave so common in the Garlean military. The leggings hugged her in ways that made Cid's mouth go dry. She stood, and stepped closer to him.

His hands wanted to reach for her, but he made himself stay still. “What next?”

She reached up, and slipped his goggles off, setting them beside her gloves on the table. He swallowed as she next reached for his shirt, tugging it free and unfastening the few buttons that he ever bothered with.

Her hands were cool against his skin as she slipped them under the loose white fabric. Goosebumps rose up all over him as she pulled the shirt off his shoulders. He let it slide down his arms and to the floor.

She dragged one finger down his chest, and then looked into his face. With her boots off, they were almost of a height. She leaned in and kissed him again, gentler this time. His hands settled on her waist.

She let the kiss end, and told him, “Take off my shirt now.”

His fingers remembered the trick to pulling carbon-weave off, and she lifted her arms to facilitate the process as he rolled the fabric up, and off...

Her muscles rippled as she moved, beautiful as a tiger's stretch. He nearly stopped moving when the shirt revealed her breasts.

The bra was very obviously a Garlean design, but no Garlean tailor had ever made such garments with black lace and silk...

He felt his body reacting to the sight and was glad for a moment that his pants were just a touch on the loose side.

He let the shirt fall to the ground beside the table, and started to reach for her.

She caught his wrists with her hands, and set them back on her waist, rather than allowing him to touch her shoulders again.

He smiled a little. “Am I not allowed to do anything on my own?” he asked her, half joking.

“Precisely,” she replied, her green eyes glittering for a moment. “You will only do as I say, when I say.”

Cid felt as if his heart rate had just doubled. “I see,” he answered, knowing he sounded a bit faint. But he'd never been more excited in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there will be at least a few more chapters!


	3. The Lady, The Tiger

Lucia let go of Cid's wrists, and skimmed her hands up along his arms. His skin was pleasing under her fingers – not silken, not soft, but not rough either. Like the finest leather, really, the sort of thing that simply cost too much to contemplate.

What would touching this man cost her?

She thought about that as she let her fingers trail along his biceps, to his shoulders. It would hardly affect her _reputation_ , so long as she didn't cavort with him in the streets or the like. She had no political enemies who might try to use him against her, no allies who would be perturbed by her choice of bed-mates. She had no family to object to anything she might do.

So then, what harm in enjoying herself here and now? One night with a handsome man – and Cid nan Garlond was most certainly handsome – would be a rare pleasure, but surely not a dangerous one.

Except that her heart trembled at the thought of waking up in the morning to an empty bed.

“I will give you one chance to leave,” she said quietly. “If you are uncomfortable with taking orders from me, I shan't force you to stay.”

“I've wanted to be right here, like this, for weeks – no, months,” Cid answered. “I'll play this any way you want to play it, Lucia.”

“Months?” She pretended the idea surprised her, rather than made her a little breathless. “Months, for a single night with me?”

He looked worried for a moment. “If one night is...is all you're willing for, then yes.”

She shut her eyes for a moment, lowered her head, collecting herself. His words, the look in his eyes, the faint tremble in his hands where they rested on her waist still...

All the things she'd hoped and prayed for, when she had still believed she had any chance with Aymeric. All the things she had craved for far too long. Cid wasn't simply pursuing a quick roll in the hay...he _wanted_ her.

She reminded herself severely that there were no guarantees in love, just as there were none on the battlefield. They might not be compatible, after all. They might tire of each other after a short while. Cid was not Aymeric and never would be. She mustn't allow those old dreams to blind her.

When she raised her head, Cid was watching her with even more concern. A wicked idea came to her mind then, and she gave him a slow smile.

“Consider tonight to be your interview then, Garlond.”

The worry in his eyes evaporated, and she felt his hands tense on her waist for an instant. He laughed very softly. “So you want to try my paces, then?”

She hummed under her breath, and then raked her nails slowly down his chest, watching as the flesh quivered at the delicate touch.

“Yes,” she answered him. “I think I'll begin with an...oral examination.”

She could feel his reaction in his hands, hear it in the catch of his breath, and her smile widened.

“Take off my pants now, Garlond. Slowly.”

He swallowed as he obeyed her, hooking his thumbs into the carbon-weave and tugging, then rolling it down and down, sinking to his knees as he went. She stepped out of the pants legs, and over to the table. There, she opened both of the other cases that still waited.

Cid watched her move, barely able to think straight, still kneeling. Her panties matched her bra...why was that detail turning him on so ferociously?

Then she turned to face him. She set her feet a bit apart, and leaned back against the table a bit, resting her elbows on it.

“Come here,” Lucia said, pointing to the floor at her feet. “Remain on your knees.”

Cid complied, shuffling on his knees the few inches necessary to put himself at her feet. Looking up at her, he experienced a rush almost as if he were about to fly into a storm front.

“Set your hands on my hips,” she told him, her voice calm, her gaze steady, “and unfasten the snaps you will find on my garment.”

Cid's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he obeyed without a word, instead of asking her where in _Ishgard_ she had obtained such things. But as she had said, the metal snaps were under his fingers as he stroked them over her hips, and with two simple motions, the scrap of black silk and lace fell away from her skin. He set the cloth to one side, repressing several _very_ naughty urges...not least of which was to stash the delicate underwear in one of his belt pouches.

He set his hands just above her knees, glancing up at her as he did so. Seeing her nod slightly, he stroked his hands up her thighs, feeling the powerful muscles beneath the smooth skin. He moved his hands in somewhat circular motions, rising higher and higher along her legs, leaning closer and closer to her. His eyes fastened on the mound of golden curls – he was at the perfect height, in his position, after all. He licked his lips and swallowed hard, holding on to his control as best he could.

She moved, and he hesitated, glancing up at her face again. But she didn't speak, only shifted her weight and her left leg, raising her foot to set it gently against his shoulder. The action opened her legs farther, opened her sex, and he quivered with the strain of holding still.

Her voice was husky once more as she told him, “For the moment, you may do as you will.”

He needed no further encouragement. He slid his hands to cup her ass cheeks, and immediately placed a small kiss on the curls he'd been admiring. He dropped more small kisses on the inside of her left thigh, letting his beard rub against the sensitive skin as he did so.

Hearing her soft sigh, he slipped one hand forward and stroked his fingers against her sex. Her hips rocked forward, and he glanced up to see her biting her lip.

She was warm and slick and tight as he slid his first finger inside of her. He heard her gasp, felt her quiver in reaction to his manipulations. He nosed against those golden curls, and felt her fingers touch his hair, trembling.

He worked slowly, feeling her relax ever so slightly and only then adding a second finger. She moaned under her breath, the merest whisper of sound, but it went through him like lightning.

He opened his mouth and darted his tongue against her, tasting her.

Lucia groaned louder, the muscles in her thighs quivering, her head falling back. Her body felt as if it were catching on fire, waves of delicious heat washing over her. Cid's fingers were not long and elegant, not callused from years of sword work. They were thick, clever, devastating...in short, they were nothing like _anything_ she'd ever imagined.

Seeing him kneeling between her knees was headier than she had expected, as if he were kneeling in worship of her. And when his tongue joined his fingers in that worship, she nearly lost herself that instant.

Her breaths were harsh, ragged, as she fought to keep her balance, to remain on her feet. But her legs went weak as he found her clitoris with his tongue and then suckled on it, and for a moment she sagged.

To her astonishment, he shifted his grip on her, in a way that wasn't immediately clear to her, and supported her weight without even a grunt of effort. He was _much_ stronger than he looked – even out of her armor, Lucia knew herself to be no delicate, doll like maiden. But such thoughts were swept away in the next wave of suckling against her sex. She couldn't string two thoughts of any sort together as he plundered her with fingers and mouth alike. All she could do was clutch at the table with her hands and gasp for breath.

Cid held her in his hands, utterly lost in the taste of her, the sounds she was making. He stroked in and out of her, adjusting the angle of his fingers ever so slightly with each movement, until he finally found the spot he wanted. She made a broken little sound, and her hips snapped against him. He stroked faster, harder, his tongue caressing her continuously.

She sighed sweetly above him, a sound as satisfying as any engine hum he had ever heard. He felt the climax building within her, felt her thighs tense until they were like pillars framing his head, and then...

Lucia bit back a cry as she came against his mouth, her hips bucking out of control, her whole body quaking. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think – there was only the glory, the fire that Cid kept feeding even as he fed upon her. She couldn't withstand it for long. Her heels struck the floor with a thud as she wrenched herself free of him, and sagged to her knees, panting. Her head spun for a moment.

He sat back on his heels and caught her shoulders in his hands, steadying her. She let her head hang down as she caught her breath. In that position, she could see the clear evidence of his arousal – loose pants notwithstanding.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and her body clamored, demanding more. For a moment she wanted to simply tackle the man before her and _devour_ him.

She dragged in a deeper breath, and staggered to her feet.

They had all night. She _would not_ rush this. She would take her time with Cid, and ensure that both of them were completely, utterly exhausted. But she _would not_ allow her own desperate need to break the man. She could, she _must_ , maintain control.


	4. Device One

Cid watched Lucia's face as she stood back up. She was shaking badly and her breathing was still ragged, but her eyes were shut tightly, her lips pressed firmly together. Had he misjudged somehow? Gods, had he hurt her?

Even as he opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, her eyes popped open and he froze for a second. The look in those green eyes – he'd never seen such _hunger_. She pinned him with that feverish gaze, and he stared back, as paralyzed as a bird caught between a cat's paws.

Then she blinked and the moment was gone. She was still breathing hard, her skin flushed beautifully, her lips reddened from how she'd bitten at them. But her eyes were calmer, saner.

“On the bed.” Her tone was no less firm for all that she was panting as she spoke.

He nodded, and got up to go sit on the edge of the bed.

She turned towards the table, and grabbed the first toy he'd shown her. She tossed it towards him, and he caught it neatly. Meanwhile she took out the second thing from the same case: it looked only like a simple square with some kind of wheel or disk on top.

Lucia got onto the bed, settling herself near the headboard, folding her legs with care. She examined the small square in her fingers, and then looked up at Cid.

“So then,” she said. “Explain what you had in mind with this.”

He blinked a couple of times, and she let herself smile a little at the obvious derailing of whatever train of thought he'd had going. It was rather charming, how he actually _blushed_ as he started to talk about his little invention, despite still having her fluids gleaming across his cheeks.

“Ahem.” Cid's eyes drifted to the pale-blue phallus in his hand. “Well, as I said, I began with you somewhat, ah, in mind. After all, I can't imagine any place in Eorzea has...quite the sort of tastes that are commonly catered to in Garlemald.”

Lucia's eyes crinkled a little. “Are you calling Eorzeans prudes?”

“Well...maybe not prudes, but...let's say Garlemald is simply more sophisticated in its approach to the goal of, of,” he coughed a little. “Self stimulation.”

“So this is similar to a Garlean design, then?” Lucia didn't repress her smile, enjoying Cid's shyness.

“Only superficially.” He turned slightly to face her, balancing the toy on his knee. “The material is much better quality, easier to keep clean and – at least in theory – more durable.” His cheeks reddened again. “I haven't really, ah, wear-tested a model, you understand.”

She chuckled. “Understandable. What else?”

“Well...it's easier to show you.” His eyes met hers, and he seemed at a loss for words.

“Is it now?” She held out her hand to him, the square device balanced on her palm. “What about this thing?”

“That's the control interface.”

“Intended for one's partner, I take it?”

He nodded, just watching her.

She grinned, her green eyes dancing with mischievous humor. “Perhaps I should test it on you, Garlond. Hmm?”

His eyes went wide and he went red, pale, and red again. “Uh...”

She laughed quietly, and sat forward enough to take the phallus from its perch on his leg, leaving the controller in its place. “I am only teasing,” she assured him. “The look on your face was simply too tempting.”

He blinked at her and then also laughed, and she didn't blame him for the slight hint of nervousness in the sound. How often had anyone said such things to the genius of the Ironworks, after all?

“How much experience have you had with these sorts of...toys?” She asked him, idly, hefting the phallus in her hand. Its surface was smooth, and it was hard – but not too hard. A pleasing texture and feel, overall. “Before you left Garlemald, that is.”

“Not a lot.” Something in his tone made her look up, and then pause. He was blushing all the way down to his shoulders...

“Are you well?” she asked, her brows crinkling.

“I'm fine.” He cleared his throat and picked up the controller square. “Just an...old school memory. Nothing to worry about.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Perhaps some of the more outrageous rumors she'd once heard about the elite of the Garlean military hadn't been that far fetched. Something to think on, for certain, later.

Cid pressed the center of the square. In her hand, the phallus began to softly glow, lit from within. A low buzz rose from it.

“The wheel here controls the vibrations,” he told her, his voice steadying as he focused more on the specifications than the situation. “And this...” He pressed a red area on the square.

Lucia's eyebrows rose. “It's warming.”

“It doesn't get _too_ warm, but something closer to skin temperature seemed...”

His words trailed off as she leaned back against the headboard of the bed.

She held eye contact with him as she opened her legs, shifting until she was comfortable, and positioned the toy.

“This _is_ what you wanted me to do, isn't it?” Her voice was quiet, amused. “You wished to see exactly this.”

She placed the tip against herself. Her body was still thoroughly lubricated. The phallus slipped inside her easily, and her breath hitched a little as she eased it deeper...deeper...

Her eyes never left the engineer's face. The expression of fascinated lust he wore made her desire flare even higher.

She felt the base of the phallus brushing against her.

“Now,” she murmured to Cid, “Show me more.”

Cid felt as if the room had just gone up in temperature by many degrees. But she was right. He _had_ hoped for the sight before him.

His mouth was dry as he watched her set the device against her entrance, as she slipped it inside, moving slowly. His cock thumped against his pants, aching. When she stopped moving, the toy was fully inside of her, and Cid wondered if he might actually faint from sheer lust.

But when she murmured to him, “Show me more,” he could only obey.

He eased his thumb against the wheel of the controller, moving it a single notch. Lucia's eyes half shut, and then she began to move, sliding the dildo in and out of herself at an unhurried pace. He swallowed hard.

A few strokes more, and Lucia told him, “More.”

His eyes met hers and he nodded, the barest movement. His thumb shifted, and the vibrations increased again.

Another few strokes, another murmured word, another notch. And again. Lucia's hand moved faster, now, and sweat shone on her brow. But her eyes were still locked on Cid.

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Cid had already clicked the little wheel again. “The highest setting,” he whispered.

Lucia couldn't answer. She panted for breath, fucking herself, faster, faster...

With a gasp she tipped over the edge and began to come. Her grip on the device faltered.

Cid leaned forward and set his palm against the base, catching it, not letting it slip free of her body. Lucia's eyes rolled back in her head as the vibrations prolonged her orgasm.

Slowly he let her down, dialing back the vibration and, presently, easing his hold on the phallus so that it slipped from her, glistening.

She lay there, heaving for breath, able only to watch as Cid took the dildo and set it aside.

He looked at her, his fingers twitching as he clearly forced himself to be still. But he didn't speak. He merely waited.

Through the haze of pleasure, Lucia felt a small thrill that had nothing to do with her body. A man of iron will, he was, to abide by her petty, arbitrary rules in the face of what must be incredibly tempting...maddening even. It was clear to her that he was unused to playing such games, and yet...

“Take off,” she panted, “your pants.”


	5. Inexorable

Cid's fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, and he made himself pause and breathe for a second before trying again. The belt loosened, and he didn't pull it loose from his belt loops – merely unfastened the pants and opened the fly. Belatedly he realized he still had his boots on, and leaned down to unfasten the snaps and yank the footwear off. As soon as he'd set those aside, he hitched his hips off the bed long enough to yank the pants – and his smalls – down to his knees. Feeling feverish, he tugged the clothes the rest of the way down his legs and kicked them over to land haphazardly on his boots, which leaned against each other as if drunk.

His cock bobbed as he sat back and shifted a little, turning, so that he could look at Lucia again. Even that little motion, only air whispering across the engorged flesh, made him swallow a groan. He was no stranger to the pleasures of the bedroom – though he tried not to think about some of the escapades from his school days. But he'd never been this turned on in all his life.

Lucia regarded him for a moment, her chest still heaving. A faint sheen of sweat made her skin seem to glow in the yellow lantern light, and for an instant she looked to Cid like a veritable goddess.

She sat up, and then crawled over to him. Setting her hand in the center of his chest, she told him, “Set your back against the wall...bend your knee. There.”

He watched her with half-lidded eyes, his heart hammering in his chest.

Lucia set one hand on the mattress, between his legs, and used her other hand to lightly stroke his belly. She dragged her fingers down, in teasing circles, closer and closer to his groin, her eyes watching how his flesh quivered, how his cock bobbed. It was dark red with need, and the silver-white hairs that curled at the base of the shaft made a pleasing contrast. She delicately stroked one finger along his cock, and then cupped his balls, pursing her lips as she weighed them in her hand.

“Most admirable,” she whispered, not raising her eyes to his face. “I like them heavy like this. Full.” She slid her hand up and curled it around the base of his cock, and smiled as he groaned.

“Lucia...gods,” Cid's head fell back against the wall. He swallowed hard, already dangerously close to release. “I'm not going to last long if you...”

“Don't you worry about that,” she purred, and set her fingers around his shaft with care.

And then she squeezed, exerting pressure as if tightening a collar around him just under the head of his cock.

Cid's eyes went wide and his mouth opened. She wasn't hurting him, but the sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He couldn't even speak.

“For the moment,” she murmured, her breath hot across his belly as she leaned down and kissed him there, “I will make sure you do not finish before it is time.”

Cid whimpered a little, and she sat up, not releasing him. Her green eyes fixed on his silver-gray ones as she pressed her lips to his. “Trust me,” she murmured against his mouth. Her tone made it half a question and half a command.

Cid could only nod, overwhelmed by the power in her eyes, in her fingers.

She smiled, and began to kiss her way down his body. He clenched his teeth on his groans, trying desperately not to make too much noise. The clamoring need in his body subsided, and she eased the pressure off, slipping her hand lower on his shaft.

He bit his lip when her mouth returned to his cock. The feel of her tongue swiping across the head was so intensely pleasurable that it bordered on pain. She ran her tongue along the pulsing vein along the bottom, and then laved his head again before taking him into her mouth entirely.

Lucia nearly purred with satisfaction. His cock was leaner than the toy he'd designed, but he was significantly longer. She eagerly swallowed him down, learning the shape of him with her tongue and her cheeks and her throat. He smelled pleasantly of metallic things, and leather, of gunpowder and a hint of sweat. He tasted divine.

She shifted her weight, so that she could use both hands. Without changing her grip on his base she lifted her other hand to cradle his balls once again, rolling them and giving them a gentle squeeze. He shuddered and lifted his hand; since he did not touch her she was fairly certain he was biting himself to control the volume of his helpless moans.

His voice was beautiful to her. His body's desire for her was intoxicating. For this little time...he was _hers_. All hers. For this little time, she could pretend that she was not alone.

She slid her mouth up and down along his length, reveling in the sense of power as much as the pleasure of feeling his reactions. He trembled for her, completely unable to speak a coherent word.

Cid's eyes were shut and his teeth scored into the heel of his hand as he tried his best not to shout from the things she was doing to him. His head swam, and he could feel sweat standing out all over his body.

She lifted her mouth, and once more squeezed him in that inexorable grip. “Now, Cid,” she told him, her voice husky.

Her lips encircled him, and then she released her hold on his cock.

His body curled forward as he came, gasping, hips thrusting, then faltering. His universe centered on his cock, on her mouth, on feeling her greedily taking in his come.

When at last he could see again, Lucia was smiling at him, her hands on his shoulders. “Good,” she crooned to him, and kissed him. He could taste himself, faintly, on her mouth. “You did very well, Garlond.” Another kiss. “Very well indeed.”

He shivered.

Lucia let go of his shoulders, and got up from the bed. She held her hand out to him. “Come,” she said. “We ought to clean ourselves a bit.”

He managed to stand up. When he staggered, Lucia put her shoulder under his arm and steadied him, effortlessly. But even as she walked him across the room – a distance of ten feet at most – he found himself giving as much support as he received.

She tended to him, washing him with cool water, placing kisses here and there across his back and his chest. When she rinsed the cloth, he took it from her, and did the same, caressing her lightly. He felt suddenly shy, and his eyes seemed glued to her shoulders, her arms.

She set her fingers to his chin, and made him look at her. Smiling at him fondly, she kissed him, letting her fingers trace the line of his jaw before her hand fell away.

She turned her back to him, and reached behind herself to unhook her bra. Cid smoothed the damp cloth across the ivory expanse of her back, entranced by the feel of powerful muscles gliding under the skin. He set the cloth aside, and stroked her shoulders with his fingers, before slipping his arms around her waist.

Cid rested his head on her shoulder, and his hands glided up slowly to cup her breasts.

He felt her tense, heard her breath catch, as the warm weight of them filled his palms. He stroked his thumbs across the skin – and paused.

Everywhere else he had touched her, she had welcomed his hands; her skin had been smooth and warm. But now the sensitive tips of his fingers found flesh that felt different, and her muscles were stiff against his chest.

Moving slowly he eased back, and turned her so that she faced him.

Her eyes met his. The little smile she'd worn before was gone. She faced him with a posture of expectation – but what was she expecting?

Lucia watched as Cid's storm gray eyes lowered to her chest, waiting for the revulsion, the pity. She'd seen it before, with those few others she had been with – and she had not blamed them. She had been able to make them forget what they saw, for the rest of the night at least. She was prepared to do so again.

But he did not flinch away. His brows knit together for an instant, and then his cheeks flushed, and his jaw tightened. But only for a moment. Then he was looking into her eyes again.

He leaned in, and kissed her once. Then he set his fingers against her chest bone, and held her gaze with his. “May I?” he whispered.

Lucia nodded, not wishing to trust her voice.

Cid framed her breasts with his hands, stroking softly. He let his fingers trace across the generous curves, across the scarred skin that should have been as silken as the rest of her.

So _many_ scars, each one a tiny circle, smaller than the nail on his smallest finger. Burn scars, laid in an obviously deliberate pattern. Old scars...very old. She must have been a mere child when...

He forced down the sudden rage, the instinctive urge to hunt down and murder whatever monster had done this to her. She wasn't his to protect; she was a woman grown, strong and wonderful and special. She didn't need him to fight her battles for her.

His hands shook as he bent his head, and softly kissed the upper curves of her breasts. He moved lower, and slower, letting his mouth linger on every inch of the painful history that lay displayed before him. He felt her hands in his hair, and felt her tremble.

He lifted his head to lean his forehead against hers. “Lucia,” he murmured, unable to say more. There were no words that would convey the things going through his head.


	6. Time

She put her arms around him and pressed close. As she laid her head on his shoulder, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She forced them back, determined not to let her past intrude any further on this night.

Cid ran his hands up and down her back, soothing. Making no demands. But she could feel the chill on his skin as she caressed him, and at last she sighed and pulled back a little. She tugged on his hand, and he followed her back to the bed. He reached down and tugged the blankets back, then gestured for her to get in first. Her lips quirked, and as she climbed into the bed and slid her legs beneath the heavy blankets, she asked, “Are you always such a gentleman?”

“Of course.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Why hadn't she noticed that before?

Cid fitted himself beside her, and covered them both, before sliding his arm around her shoulders to tuck her head against him. He ran his fingers over her hair, enjoying the silky feel of it. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and smiled a little.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Lucia murmured. Her hand rested over his heart.

“Which thing?” he asked.

“Wanting more than a one night stand.”

“Yes.” His arm tightened a little across her shoulders. “I meant it. But if you don't want...”

She leaned up a little, and set her finger on his lips. “I am willing,” she told him, with quiet firmness, “to find ways to spend time with you.”

He kissed her finger. “Okay.”

She resumed laying against his chest, and said, “The difficulty may be in finding the time.”

“Time and place both.” His fingers traced a little circle on her shoulder. “We can't exactly go to my place, since I don't have one.”

“No? Then where do you sleep, Garlond?”

He chuckled a little. “There's a cot in the workshop. And a hammock on board the Excelsior. I grab cat naps here and there.”

She ran her fingers down his chest bone. “My own quarters are...less than ideal in terms of privacy.”

“I know,” Cid laughed quietly. “I was in them, remember? Installing that radiator.”

Lucia thought about mentioning the officers' apartments – but then thought better of it. Not now. Not yet.

Instead, she shifted her leg to lay it over Cid's, and rubbed the arch of her foot against his shin. “For tonight,” she said, “Let us not worry about it.”

“I agree.” His hand skimmed down her back, and he turned toward her, his mouth seeking hers.

She let him in, let his tongue fence with hers, even as she rocked her hips gently against him.

Cid reveled in the kiss, more than a little giddy from the knowledge that she was, after all his bumbling, willing to at least try for a real relationship. He would have accepted a purely physical encounter, a one night stand. The way she pressed against him told him that she wanted more than just the physical.

When her hand curled around his cock, he gave a little noise of surprise, but his body's response was instant. From the purr she made against his mouth, she found it gratifying, too. She worked him, slowly, and he kissed her gently, her lips, her jaw, the elegance of her throat. His hand cupped her breast, the thumb stroking the skin above the scarring. She whispered into his hair, encouraging him.

When he bent his head to kiss her breasts, she turned onto her back. Her leg rubbed against his groin now, while her hands stroked his shoulders and his back. She was softer now, less commanding, and yet he was no less excited about touching her.

Lucia closed her eyes and let his hands wander, let his hair brush over her face. Her body rose to meet his lips, and when he lifted his head a little, she bent her head back, pressing into the pillow, showing him her throat.

She heard his breath huff, and then his lips were on her neck, kissing and licking, until he found a spot that made her hiss. There, he stopped, and set his lips and his teeth against her, sucking and biting until she cried out softly.

Then his hand drifted down her belly, and cupped her sex. She opened to him, eager for more of the pleasure he offered her.

Cid groaned against her collarbone. “Seven hells, how are you so wet already...”

She clasped him to her. “Because I need more of you.”

He made her wait a little longer, nibbling at her and gently gliding his fingers in and out of her, until she writhed, and shifted so that she had one leg around his waist. “Garlond,” she groaned. “Don't tease me.”

“Never.” His breath was hot against her ear. “But the lady should always come first...”

“Make me come with your cock this time, then.” She put her arms around his neck and dragged him down for a hard, hungry kiss. Even when she let him come up for air, she kept hold of him, whispering filthy things in his ear.

He couldn't withstand her for long, and with a moan, he rolled over and set his knees between her legs. His member rubbed against her thigh for a moment, hot and needy.

He balanced some of his weight on his hands, and settled himself against her. He slipped inside her with such ease. Her walls rippled around him as he slowly buried himself in her, as if she wanted him so badly that she was drawing him further and further in. Their hips met, and he leaned his head down, his face against her neck, just panting heavily for a moment.

Lucia wasn't having any of that, however.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he felt the power in her thighs as she began to rock her hips. He groaned, and gave in fully to the mounting desire, matching his own thrusts with her motions, sinking deep inside her on every down-stroke.

Her arms loosened and her head fell back on the pillow. “Don't be gentle,” she moaned. “I want to feel all of you...”

“Don't want to hurt you,” Cid panted.

“Damn it, Garlond.” She dug her nails into his shoulders for a moment. “Fuck me.”

What little control he had left shattered at those words.

He began to thrust harder, raising his head to stare down into her face. His brows knit as he watched her.

Lucia tossed her head, panting as hard as Cid was. His length thrilled her and the tiny sounds they made as they moved together were incredibly tantalizing.

Soon she was sighing as she had under his tongue. Cid could feel her body tightening, coiling, and it drove him to pound into her, harder, harder, until she was whimpering beneath him, muttering things he couldn't make out but knew were meant to urge him on.

He felt his own orgasm gathering, and with his last scrap of clear thought he moved his hand down to reach between them and set his fingers against her clitoris, letting the rocking of their bodies aid him in rubbing across the sensitive nubbin.

Lucia cried out, her nails digging into his biceps.

Cid's head dropped to her shoulder. “Yes...come for me, Lucia...come for me...hells, you feel so good!”

He let out a broken cry against her as his cock exploded inside of her. Her walls clamped around him, and she uttered a shriek, barely muffled as she pressed the corner of the pillow against her mouth.

They lay still for a long time, shuddering with aftershocks, sweat cooling.

Finally, Cid lifted his head. He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She hummed, a contented sound, and stroked his face. “We should sleep.”

Cid got up, only long enough to get the cloth and clean them both up. Then, as Lucia rolled over on her side with a yawn, he blew out the lantern. He got back in bed, and draped his arm over her. With another pleased sigh, Lucia wriggled, tucking herself against him, and laced her fingers with his.

She held his fingers loosely, and let her eyes drift closed, her lips curving in a small smile. Perhaps she could coax him into a morning effort as well. A pleasant thought to take with her into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you who have read all this so far! I'm astounded at the response you have all so kindly shown!
> 
> There may be more about these two, if you have requests or suggestions I would be happy to read them in comments!


	7. Commander

Lucia walked into the Lord Commander's office wearing a small smile. Handeloup had noticed it and given her a raised eyebrow, but she had not explained. She felt really quite wonderful – Garlond had indeed been willing for a morning romp. Would that she could start her day so pleasantly more often...but that was unlikely. Still, she would savor what she could, when she could.

But the moment she laid eyes on her superior officer, her smile died.

“Lord Commander, are you well?”

He started as if he hadn't noticed her entering, and gave her a smile. It was a sickly, broken thing, nothing like his normal expression. His skin was pale and, frankly, he looked _awful_.

“I am not ill, Lucia.” His voice was as haggard as his face. She glanced at his desk and saw that he had worked through everything that had been waiting there.

Everything.

She knew then what he had done. He had already been staying late every night, for weeks. She knew he had slept here in the Congregation at least three times, as well. She had been aware that he wasn't eating well, but at the same time...he had not taken her into his confidence.

For a brief moment she regretted not pushing him to talk to her. Clearly, she should have paid more mind to the signs. He was on the edge of collapse, now.

Her practical side took over. She strode over, and grasped his shoulder firmly, shaking it a bit.

“Sir, you should take a day. Go home and rest.”

He didn't answer, and she made a small noise of exasperation. Right, then.

She stepped away and picked up the decanter of liquor that he kept for guests. It was barely touched – being that he rarely had the sort of guest present who expected such gestures – and she poured a tumbler full of the red-amber liquid and brought it to the desk. She physically forced the glass into his hands. “Drink,” she told him, in a sterner tone.

For a moment she worried that she might actually have to force the stuff down his throat. She hadn't had to do _that_ since Lord Borel died.

But he gulped it down, and gasped as the liquor hit the back of his throat.

Lucia handed him his own handkerchief. “You need to go home.”

He looked up at her, and she forced her expression into neutrality when he croaked, “I am needed here, not at my home, Lucia.”

It wasn't hard to keep her voice disapproving and stern.

“You cannot _work_ like this, Aymeric. _Go home_. Rest a day that you might return and be capable of doing your job. Right now, you most certainly are not.”

She could track the progress of the brandy by how he relaxed in tiny increments, until at last his shoulders drooped and he made use of the handkerchief.

“Come,” she said, and now her tone was much the same as she'd use with one of the knights. He obeyed, his eyes beginning to go glassy, and she took his elbow and walked him out of his office, and then out of the Congregation entirely. Fortunately his home was not far.

Even so, he was stumbling by the time she got him to his door.

His steward opened the door and let them in, then helped her get Aymeric to the sitting room. Once there, the two of them managed him, getting his robe off, and his boots, so that he could lay on the couch, without all the various ornamentation of his official garb getting in the way.

“I will go and make the necessary arrangements,” Lucia told old Jarilant. “Will you need any assistance with him?”

“No, my lady. Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Yes. I understand. I will return in the evening.”

“Understood, my lady.”

She started for the door, and then turned back slightly. “Jarilant. I would not pry. But...what...?”

The old man shook his head. “I'm afraid I don't quite know either, my lady. Perhaps by this evening he will be able to tell you.”

She returned to the Congregation, and issued orders as necessary. Not having the Lord Commander present was no longer quite the problem it had once been. She and Handeloup both were well respected and they had worked out ways to split the work load between them. Not for the first time, she sighed at the knowledge that Aymeric worked far too hard, even when he wasn't doing so deliberately.

Then she sighed even more deeply as she wrote out a message for the Parliament. Those would be the ones complaining most about Aymeric's absence. They always were.

Fortunately, one of the first things Aymeric had established was that his duties as Lord Commander were separate from his duties as Lord Speaker. Someday, it wouldn't be as much of an issue – when the Lord Commander and the Lord Speaker were not the same person. But for now, Lucia could write her terse message citing the need for Aymeric to take a day of rest, and not be hounded by querulous old goats.

Not that most of them would dare approach her in any but the direst circumstances.

Her lip curled a little as she sealed the note and sent it off with a squire. Hopefully she would live to see that change too – it was long past time that the nobles of Ishgard took their well-bred heads out of their asses. Once they recognized how much more could get done when they joined hands with their brothers and sisters, so much would improve for all of them, from the Brume to the Vault.

But enough of that for now. She had work to do.

As she got up from the desk, something rolled from underneath a paper and hit the floor with a soft, melodious sound. She looked down, and saw a link-pearl – a very high quality one, inlaid with cloisonne in the House Borel colors. Its impact with the floor had activated it, and it was chiming softly, attempting to connect with its mate.

She stared at it, uncertain what to do. Four chimes. Five. Then – the click that indicated connection open. But before she could lift the device to her ear and see who was on the other end of this line, the pearl uttered the rather forlorn sound that meant the other end had been deactivated. Turned off completely.

She regarded it, perturbed, and tucked it away in her belt pouch. She would return it to the Lord Commander later.

She walked back to House Borel in the evening, keeping her cloak tight around her. The wind had picked up, and a snowstorm was on its way.

Jarilant let her in, and took her cloak, before bowing her toward the sitting room.

So, Aymeric hadn't moved all day.

She approached the doorway and paused, hearing Lord Edmont's voice. “By the Fury, Aymeric, what were you thinking?”

“I panicked. I wasn't thinking at all.” Aymeric's voice sounded like he had swallowed rusty nails. “I truly didn't intend to...but how else can I hold onto her, Edmont?”

“You are not a fool. You know you can't chain a woman like Berylla. Haurchefant surely did.” There was a pause. “The situation isn't beyond saving.”

“She's gone. If she comes back at all, it will be many weeks before there's any chance...and I doubt she will want to hear from me.”

Lucia's hands were clenched into fists. So it was Berylla that had caused this. She knew, suddenly, just who the link-pearl was for. The Warrior of Light had cut off communication with the Lord Commander.

No wonder he was so devastated. Something had passed between them. It almost didn't matter what. Berylla was gone, indeed – away to the Far East, from what Lucia knew. She couldn't possibly return to Ishgard for at least two more months at best, assuming she had even reached her destination yet.

Lucia resolved to keep her ear to the ground. And to keep the link-pearl with her. Aymeric didn't need to have such an item nearby, exacerbating his upset.

And in the meantime...

She stepped into the sitting room.

Lord Edmont looked up at her and nodded in greeting. Aymeric was sitting up, an empty glass in his hand. She could smell the liquor on him, and sighed inwardly. She felt for the man – he was her friend, as well as her superior officer and a man to whom she owed most everything about her life at present.

“This simply will not do, Lord Commander.” She made her tone stern, as she had this morning, knowing that to show him any softness right now was not the right thing for her to do. Let Edmont be the sympathetic one, the “good guy.” Lucia had no trouble being the one to say the difficult things.

“Lucia, I...”

“I do not care to hear excuses, nor apologies,” she cut him off. “I understand that you are upset, but you know as well as I do that you do not have the luxury of indulging yourself overmuch in sentiment.”

“Sentiment?” His blue eyes snapped up to hers and he looked offended. Good. Offended, angry, those were much better things to see in his eyes than the despair she'd glimpsed this morning.

“The city needs you, Aymeric,” she told him. “I am not without sympathy. But the Parliament and the Watch and the Temple Knights all look to you, not to me. You cannot afford to let yourself act in this manner.”

He frowned at her, mulishly, and she changed tactics.

“Get your shit together, Aymeric.” Her tone was harder now, almost angry. “You are being, quite frankly, a fool. The woman is gone – but she is not dead, and moreover you have no idea what her mind may be even now. You know better than to make assumptions, and doubly so when it comes to the Warrior of Light, who has ever been unpredictable in the extreme.” Her eyes narrowed. “But of the most importance is the plain fact that you cannot sit and wait for her. There are too many people relying on your leadership and your wisdom. I will not let you kill yourself with work, but I will not let you stew in your damned feelings either.”

“Since when did you become my nursemaid, Lucia?” he snapped. “I'm perfectly capable of handling this without your advice.”

Good, he was getting angrier.

“Apparently as of this morning, when you were nearly out on your feet,” she snapped back. “Only a fool attempts to work himself into collapse and still call himself capable.”

“You tread perilous close to insubordination,” he growled.

“We aren't at the Congregation,” she retorted. “We aren't speaking as Lord Commander and First. I am at this moment your friend, and I will damn well tell you to your face that you're being a sentimental fool. Pull your head out of your ass, Aymeric. No matter what you may have quarreled about, Seahawk is not the sort of person to summarily cut anyone out of her life. Even if she has done – your duties remain, and you cannot turn your back on Ishgard. Your city needs you far more than Berylla does.”

She took a half step back and forced her expression into a sneer of disdain. “Or do you plan to abandon Ishgard to chase after the woman?”

He shot to his feet – or tried to; the effect was spoiled by how he immediately swayed. “Don't you dare call me deserter, Garlean.”

Ah, she'd touched the right nerve. She pressed her advantage, keeping her tone frosty and sarcastic.

“Then don't act like one. Act like the man you are, not a sniveling fourteen year old pining for his one true love.”

He sucked in a breath – she saw his hands clench into fists – and for one moment she wondered if, for the first time in all the years she'd known him, she had actually pushed him to the point of striking out at her.

But then he turned away, and though he shook for a moment more, his voice was calm when he spoke.

“You are, as ever, eminently practical, Lucia.”

“One of us has to be.”

Lord Edmont, who had watched their exchange in silence, spoke up. “You know she is right, Aymeric.”

He didn't answer.

Lucia decided to offer truce, rather than keep needling him. “A compromise, perhaps. You come to work, and you work – for a reasonable amount of time, no more of these all-night sessions. Then you come home. I will keep you supplied with whatever rotgut you like, and sit with you if need be, to make certain you actually sleep of a night.”

His shoulders shook in a mirthless laugh. “That shall not be necessary. Merely reminding me to stop work of an evening should suffice, Lucia.”

“Very well. Then for now I leave you to your evening. I will have your office ready for you in the morning.”

He turned slightly to look over his shoulder at her. “In the morning, then.” His eyes glittered in the firelight with unshed tears, and his voice was quiet. “Thank you, Lucia. You are a wise friend, and I am glad of your sharp tongue, even when it is me that you sting with it.”

She looked away. “It is I who should be glad that I don't often need to sting you at all.”

She turned around, and walked out.

Back at the Congregation, a note was waiting for her on her desk. She lifted it, recognized the handwriting, and tucked it into her pouch. This day had been unexpectedly vexing, and it felt as if it would never end, even though she was technically finished with work for today.

She made her way upstairs to her quarters – really, a small meeting room that still got used for certain sorts of meetings. But her narrow bed was here, and her few possessions. For a wonder, no one intercepted her with messages or concerns, and she shut the door behind her with a small sigh of relief.

She changed out of her armor, leaving the carbon-weave trousers and shirt on for the moment, and retrieved the note before going to sit on the edge of her bed.

Her hands only shook a little as she opened it.

_Lucia._

_I almost wonder if I dreamed everything,_

_even though I'm writing this just after getting to the workshop._

_Dare I hope that you'll be free tomorrow for dinner?_

_I would very much like to continue our discussion from this morning._

_If not tomorrow, tell me when and I'll arrange everything._

_-Cid_

Her cheeks ached and she realized she was grinning like an imbecile.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was in part inspired and enabled by  
> Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club  
> Please come and join if you've a mind to do so!  
> https://discord.gg/8C6ZKTj


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